I attended the
Malcom X Memorial Dinner this year. It was not my first time. I am
among those
whom Dequi refers to in her remarks as coming and going and coming back
again.
But this year was different from any of the previous occasions. I
didn’t just
attend as an individual. I mobilized five other members of the Green
Party of
Brooklyn to join me as a delegation from the party.

The work around
political prisoners suffers from the fact that it tends to exist in a
Black
ghetto, with considerable support and solidarity also from the Puerto
Rican
movement but with only a sprinkling of white activists involved. At the
same
time the Green Party suffers from the fact that it tends to be
overwhelmingly
white, with only a few people of color who participate in its work. It
seemed
obvious to me that this was an opportunity to begin bridging both of
these
gaps, that the Green Party and the movement to free political
prisoners/prisoners of war would mutually benefit from making a
connection. In
general the white left in the USA
pays far too little attention to this issue, and I believe that other
white
activists would benefit substantially, as I have over the years, by
becoming
immersed in the spirit of Black love, Black resistance, Black family,
and Black
community that this dinner embodies.

I do know that
the other Green Party members who came felt good about their
participation,
agree with me that the party as a whole should try to find other ways
to
connect with struggles that are of specific concern to communities of
color—as
a step in trying to break out of the white ghetto that the Green Party
has been
in for far too long.

And let me also
take this opportunity to present some personal testimony, about how an
involvement in work with prisoners has enriched my experience both as a
social
activist and as a human being. Taking the steps suggested by Dequi, in
terms of
visiting or contributing money, can, I believe, do the same for others.
I will
close, therefore, with a brief poem composed in 2014, after actually
visiting a
prison for the fist time in my life. That visit was associated with a
literary
project, in collaboration with several women inmates at the State
Correctional
Institute at Muncy, in Pennslyvania. But whether the reasons for your
visit are
personal, or literary, or political, I think everyone who engages first
hand
with prisons as a social institution can enrich their own understanding
in
similar ways.